Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The Norse Chronicles™
Copyright © 2017 by Karissa Laurel. All rights reserved.
First Ebook Edition: January 2018
Thank you for downloading this Red Adept Publishing eBook
Join our mailing list and get our monthly newsletter filled with upcoming releases, sales, contests, and other information from Red Adept Publishing.
Or visit us online to sign up at
http://redadeptpublishing.com/subscribe-to-our-monthly-newsletter/
Red Adept Publishing, LLC
104 Bugenfield Court
Garner, NC 27529
http://RedAdeptPublishing.com/
Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
MIDNIGHT BURNING
For Mom
“The Sun fares swiftly, and almost as if she were afraid: she could not hasten her course any the more if she feared her destruction.”
“It is no marvel that she hastens furiously: close cometh he that seeks her, and she has no escape save to run away.”
“Who is he that causes her this disquiet?”
—Prose Edda, Snorri Sturluson (1179 – 1241)
Translated by Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur,
Ph.D. Oxford University Press, 1916.
Chapter One
My brother, Mani, once told me Alaska was the first place he had ever travelled where he knew he was somewhere different—somewhere decidedly not home—before he ever set foot on the ground. I didn’t understand what he meant until now. Outside my airplane window, the glassy waters of Cook Inlet reflected a bright blue late-summer sky. Dark and looming, the Chugach Mountains encroached from the east. Far to the north, the ghostly, snow-crusted visage of Mount McKinley rose above the landscape, an ancient king, high on his dais, surveying his kingdom.
By comparison, Mani and I had been raised somewhere a little more commonplace. Home was a small town in the foothills of North Carolina, over three thousand miles away. And this was the first time I had ever left it. I probably should have eased into long-distance travel in the same way I eased into a cold swimming pool—one toe at a time. A trip over the border into Gatlinburg. A weekend visit to D.C. But no, I had taken a plunge from the high dive instead, and boy, was I in over my head.
The captain’s calm and assuring voice spilled across the cabin, announcing our approach and descent into Anchorage. Seatbelt signs chimed and flashed. A pair of flight attendants swept down the aisles, collecting trash and reminding passengers to raise seat backs and lock away tray tables. I closed my eyes, drew in a deep breath, and urged my heart to return to its regular pitter-patter pace, but it refused to obey.
I breathed in again and trapped the breath in my lungs. Chill, Solina, I told myself. It’s only a week. I could survive anything for one week, right? And I wouldn’t be on my own. My brother’s best friend, Val Wotan, was at the airport waiting for me. Val had texted me a dozen times to make sure I hadn’t missed my connecting flights or fallen out of the plane somewhere over Canada. Val was expecting me, and I was a glutton for fulfilling others’ expectations. I also owed this trip to my brother, to the honor of his memory. How could I ever look myself in the eye again if I gave in to my doubts? If I didn’t give Mani my absolute commitment?
Val deserved my loyalty, too. In the few years I’d known him, Val had risen from casual acquaintance to something I wasn’t quite ready to label, but just thinking of him made my heart beat a little faster, my breath come a little quicker. Val had earned my regard by being the sibling I couldn’t be for Mani after he’d left home. He had watched Mani’s back, made him welcome and comfortable in a strange and foreign place. He had even saved my brother’s life once.
I chuckled, remembering how Mani had loved to recount the story of the raging bull moose—deep in a rutting frenzy and crazed by the need to mate with anything female and fight anything that wasn’t. Not long after Mani had first arrived in Alaska, he and Val had gone off on a backpacking trip. They came upon the moose on the edge of a meadow and caught it off guard. The moose turned its hostile gaze on Mani, lowered its rack, and charged. Stunned and uncertain how to react, Mani stood frozen in place and watched his life pass before his eyes. Meanwhile, Val calmly drew a .44 Magnum from the side pocket of his backpack and fired off a warning shot. The moose reconsidered his challenge and lumbered away into the woods.
If only Val and his gun had been there the night my brother died. Then I might be coming to Alaska for an entirely different set of reasons.
After an uneventful landing and a short taxi to our gate, the other passengers filtered out from the rows of seating and disappeared through the exit doors. The cabin emptied, and still I sat. My presence drew the attention of a flight attendant passing through on his way to the back of the jet. His sudden halt and surprised expression woke me from my daze. “Is something wrong, miss?” he asked. “Can I help you with anything?”
I blinked and shook my head. “No. Sorry. I’m just… just…”
He patted my shoulder. “First time flying?”
It was a convenient excuse, and not a lie, so I took it. “Nerves got the best of me, I guess.” I rose and stumbled out of my seat. The attendant helped me collect my luggage from the overhead bin. I smiled and thanked him.
“It’s no trouble,” he said. “And it was my pleasure.”
When Val met me at baggage claim, he swept me into a crushing bear hug, and I sank into the comfort of his strength. “God, Solina,” he said. “It’s so good to see you.”
Val Wotan was a towering mass of rough-and-ready Alaskan adventure. A shaggy mop of auburn hair swept over his brow, and a day-old beard shadowed his jaw. He looked as though he could withstand any challenge the wilds of nature could throw at him. Broad shouldered, workman’s hands, ruggedly capable—he inspired my confidence.
